Welcome to the PokéCommunity!

Hi there! Thanks for visiting PokéCommunity. We’re a group of Pokémon fans dedicated to providing the best place on the Internet for discussing ideas and sharing fan-made content. Welcome! We’re glad you’re here.

In order to join our community we need you to create an account with us. Doing so will allow you to make posts, submit and view fan art and fan fiction, download fan-made games, and much more. It’s quick and easy; just click here and follow the instructions.

Roleplay LoungeLounge about in Out-Of-Character discussions linked to individual roleplays. This is the best place to find existing roleplays to join, or create the sign-up thread for a roleplay of your own!

There are not many ways to put it; Avangeline is beautiful. She has long, blonde hair with a neat fringe, beaded and hanging at each end of her face and though used to all hand loose, is either tied up into a long, high ponytail or pulled into a loose plat, depending on the situation. Her eyes are a crystal blue and skin is fair thanks to her sheltered life but speckled with light freckles here and there. Like most half-elves, her ears are pointed slightly, enough to distinguish that yes, she has elf born into her family. She has a button nose, slightly red to match her rosy cheeks.

Her body is neither tall nor short; she stands just above her mother and a head below her father. She is lean and posture is near perfect thanks to her training (nobody likes a fat and crooked lady-in-waiting). Her breasts are average but are often overcompensated thanks to the corsets and tight dresses she is required to wear. She limited blemishes visible on her skin, the most common places would be grazes and bruises on her knees, scuffs on her forearms and a cut under her chin.

Grown up with royalty, Avangeline was always used to gorgeous, long dresses made of the finest silks but tight and hard to breathe in. Heavy necklaces and earrings were compulsory it seemed and made living even worse, as well as the uncomfortable high-heeled shoes which had laces that were tighter than the corset. Of course, she never liked the dresses but was required to wear them.

Now away from her scheduled life, Avangeline wears the typical hunter’s outfit. The top half consists of a tight, leather corset fit with a hood and a red scarf wrapped around her neck. She wears leather guards on her forearms and gloves to cover her hands. The bottom half are very light tights, hardly protective at all, with a belt to keep her swords on her hips as well as fit with pockets to hold materials, money and supplies. Her boots match her gloves, leather with metal plates built onto the front, and protect her feet well. The boots extend to her knees to create metal kneecaps which somewhat protect them without resistance. Similar applies to her arms except she wears light, metal armour on her shoulders to protect the exposed skin.

As for jewellery, Avangeline wears one of her only kept trinkets from home; a feather pendant made from pure gold. Her earings are simple studs, one on each side and she wears an unseen ring on her right hand, one made by Elfish hands, given to her by her mother.

For a short range fighter, her armour is quite light and looks useless against enemies with enormous swords. Avangeline relies on speed and reflexes; her armour protects her usually on the open road or when she is milliseconds short of a sword on her arm.

Her beauty is often compared to her mother’s, though Avangeline would argue that she is not at all.

Personality:

Avangeline is unusually stubborn, rebellious and quite robust, especially for a princess. She stays firm to her beliefs, even to the point where she won’t admit she’s wrong. If she’s in charge, it’s either her way or no way, no excuses. In saying that, she knows how to be a team player and can take orders when it’s from the right leader. If someone can earn her respect, Avangeline is loyal to the core and will fight to the end for that one person, even if it means her life. And from this, Avangeline can only expect the same from you in return. Traitors will not be tolerated but second chances can be given.

From her extended life as a princess, Avangeline knows how to be prim and proper but chooses not to act like this. Only in circumstances where formalities are needed such as to a person who has earned her upmost respect, she’s blunt and is not afraid to tell you what she thinks about you. Perhaps too blunt, in that Avangeline can say the wrong things at the wrong times and be completely oblivious to the fact she may be giving offensive remarks or insults. She can probably be a little sarcastic at times and suggest barren approaches of solving problems instead of the more logical ways (for example, instead of climbing a tree to save a cat, how about cutting the tree down?).

When it comes to fighting, Avangeline’s style uses mainly speed and accuracy. As she does not wear a lot of armour, she relies on her reflexes to dodge attacks and have rarely been a burden to her. She’d rather wear her enemy out by avoiding their attacks and slowly making cuts on their bodies. Once they’re worn out, she strikes. Avangeline would never intentionally kill someone who’s innocent before and rarely does so to the guilty unless defending herself. Though, Avangeline can be hasty when running into a fight, having too much confidence in herself and even taking on multiple enemies at once without much preparation. Sure, she’s good at swordplay but her lack of planning doesn’t allow her to use the element of surprise very well.

History:

Avangeline's birth came as somewhat of a shock to the royal family of Falke. Her father, Prince Norville Highclaw, youngest brother to the current King, was seen as rebellious, outlandish and spontaneous and not a great role model to the people compared to his older brother. Prince Norville was known for his antics, including but not limited to buying ridiculous items from foreign countries for vast amounts of money that had no purpose, disappearing from castle grounds to be later escorted from houses known to hold courtesans while drunk and disorderly or competing in petty events like mud or sword fights. His worst instance was prior to Avangeline's birth, disappearing from Falke only to return six months later with a beautiful but pregnant Elf fiancée from Miracyia, known as Malrin Faervel Emlygil. Though frowned upon, nobody stopped him or the wedding and seven months later, Avangeline Beatrice Ravonien Highclaw was born.

Avangeline was born as the spitting image of her mother (though apparently she had her father’s nose or ears or something of the like) and was raised like any of the noble children; proper education, proper clothes, proper food and proper shelter. She spent a good lot of her early years listening to her mother’s stories of home in the forests of Miracyia. Though she was rarely let outside castle walls, let alone outside of Falcon Peak, she let her mind imagine what it would be like to live freely like her mother used to. These wonderings were constantly scolded by teachers and other members of her family; though the elves were allies, a princess must never wish for adventure. She is to look proper and serve her people. She was a lady-in-waiting after all.

At age ten, Avangeline was taught how to use a blade and with it came a personality. The art of the sword interested her, though the training was only for self-defence, never a motive for her to want to become a knight. Her father, now had found responsibility with age, disapproved of it and her never fading will to see the outside world; his princess and her precious beauty had to be preserved. Her mother however, encouraged it, feeding her tale after tale of her forefathers and fantasy stories of daring adventurers. She even taught Avangeline the basics and roots of Eldaquente and practiced swordplay after hours and away from Prince Norville’s eyes.

Moving into teenage-hood, Avangeline had begun to take her father’s footsteps. When guards were not looking, she would sneak outside the castle to venture the streets looking for new and exciting things. She was never caught in the arms of a random man but in the markets observing trinkets and listening to lore of the merchants and caravans. Her rebellion was often compared to her father’s and though many of the castle staff and residents found it adorable and amusing, Prince Norville did not approve.

Around her sixteenth birthday, Avangeline was surprised and outraged to hear that she had been betrothed to a son of one of the richer noble families in Falke. Avangeline, of course, rebelled and emphasised her beliefs to her father but it was all to deaf ears; she would marry and that was that. Avangeline had other ideas for her life and would much rather spend it seeing the world than spend it cooped up in a castle waiting for King or Queen to die. So, without a second thought, she slipped out of the castle (with her mother’s careful eye and assistance) and ran away, vowing never to return to the life she knew before.

The first few months on the high road were hard; avoiding guards and any kind of suspicious looking folk while trying to survive on her supplies while her money slowly dwindled was not something she was particularly used to. Her swords saved her life on many occasions where thieves and bandits raided her small camp though at some times, she barely escaped with her life. It was a cold Winter night four months since her escape when Avangeline first took a life and it was not the last.

Seven months after leaving Falke, Avangeline found herself in the heart of Eveamoor in Dalenham. Abandoning her name, the now ‘Ava’ found herself joining a small thieves guild. Though her Falkmor accent was strong in contrast with usual Ethorian, Ava never found herself fearing that her true heritage would be discovered; for once in her life, Ava felt she was where she was meant to be.

From then, Ava moved from guild to guild, building a mastery for her double broadswords and earning a small reputation for herself, mainly noticeable by her red scarf which rumoured to be ‘tainted with the blood of her enemies’ (though Ava really only had it dyed red in ink). She has yet to return to her mother’s homeland of Miracyia; she says she will when she can call herself a ‘true elf’. At present time, she travels with a small group of mercenaries, quenching her insatiable thirst for adventure as well as earning a good serving of gold along the way.

Victoria “Alys” Taimor

Age: 24Gender: FemaleRace: HumanCountry of Origin: EthoraAlliance: MercenariesReligion: The Council of Nine; In particular Dabel.

Appearance:
Standing at five foot six, Victoria isn’t very tall, no taller nor shorter than the other girls her age around Rowanion; even her older, bossier sister Elizabeth is only slightly taller than herself. Her weight as well is nothing special, most of the girls her age weighed between fifty and sixty kilograms, and at fifty-six, she is only slightly about the average and has quite a slim figure. The only things she lacks more than other girls is her chest which is a bit smaller than that of her female friends which she sees more of a blessing in disguise than anything else. Like the other girls in Ethoria, Victoria has lightish, pinkish skin, however due to her disliking of staying couped up inside like a lady and preference for the wide expanses of the outdoors, her skin has taken a beaten from the sun, now slightly darker than those of the females around her. Much to her sister's dislike, Victoria also has callouses on her hands and a couple of scratches here and there from being outside.

Her hair is a rich auburn in colour, falling to just below her shoulder blades and naturally soft and smooth. This often leads people to believe that she is not related to her siblings, whom both have their mother's blonde hair, rather than their father's auburn hair. She cuts her to no lower than shoulder blade length to make it easier for her to move around, yet still look like a girl when she needs to. When it comes to moving swiftly outside, she will tile her hair up into a ponytail. Beneath her fringe lies a pair of green eyes, slightly lighter in shade than her brother's and sister's. Contrast to her auburn hair, her eyebrows are actually slightly tinged with blonde, hence why she often hides them beneath a fringe, yet doesn't let her fringe get long enough to obscure her vision.

Being apart of the high class, she was often taught to wear magnificent silken thread dresses that would press tightly against her body making it hard to breathe, high-heeled shoes requiring a certain amount of skill to walk around, and a variety of necklaces, earrings and bracelets to compliment the overall look; as well as having her hair done up in what was considered the 'latest fashion'. Although she does not mind wearing these due to years of having to do so, she prefers her civilian clothes and hunting leathers as opposed to this for greater freedom of movement. Despite the urging from her sister, she will often take to the masses of the public in her civilian or hunting gear in order to better blend in and 'fit in' with the locals around the town of Rowanion. However due to her status, they know who she is and will more often treat her with respect than the ignorance she desires.

A belt wraps around her waist to hold up the tight leather pants that end halfway down her calves; an attachable sheath for her curved hunting knife sits on her right hip. below this are her leather boots with shin guards that cover the skin left over from the bottom of her pants, leather buckles keeping them close to her shins so they don't move around when she does. Above her waist is a tight leather corset that has more freedom than the ones she is strapped into for dresses; accompanied by a hood that, when on, just touches her eyebrows. Slung over her shoulder is her quiver of arrows, pockets running up and down the outside of it holding different items to tip her arrows with; from paralytics, to poisons, to blunting heads. Her bow usually rests over her right shoulder. On her left wrist is a simple leather arm guard while her right arm guard extends into a half-glove to protect her fingers when holding the bow.

Personality:
Victoria is an outgoing and straight-shooting type. Enthusiastic and excitable, she lives in a world of action. Blunt, straight-forward risk-taking means she is willing to plunge right into things and get her hands dirty. Unlike others, she lives in the here-and-now and places little importance on what might happen or theories. She prefers to look at the facts of a situation, quickly decide what should be done, and execute the action and then move on to the next thing. Victoria see’s rules and laws as guidelines for behaviour, rather than directives. If something needs to be done, she would rather do it and get on with it than follow the rules. Despite this, she has a strong belief in what is right and wrong as what she perceives to be so, and will stick to this principle faithfully. This meaning that her own integrity will stop her from doing anything she feels to be wrong under any circumstance.

Fast moving and fast talking, Victoria takes the time to appreciate the finer things in life. She has a silver tongue, her ability to improvise not only in speech, but in actions as well. She will more than likely make things up as she goes along rather than following a plan. Victoria likes to have fun, but sometimes her idea of fun can be hurtful to others without being aware of it as she does not really care about the effect her words have on others. This doesn’t mean she doesn’t care about people, rather she makes decisions based on facts and logic and doesn’t take people’s feelings into account. Victoria had trouble in school due to her lack of patience with theory. She would often get bored with classes in which she felt she would gain no useful material that could be used to get things done. This doesn’t mean she isn’t smart, she is fairly intelligent, but she deals better with hands-on situations than theoretical ones. Victoria is somewhat restless and gets frustrated easily when restricted or confined and unhappy with routine chores. She has a natural abundance of energy and enthusiasm and can get very excited about things.

Not naturally in tune with what others are feeling and not very good at expressing her emotions either leaves Victoria quite weakened, which may inadvertently end up hurting not only herself, but others around her. She is generally good with money, however she does have a tendency of being highly risky with it as well. Her present thinking and living means that she cannot plan long ranged events, anything spanning more than a week is too difficult; commitments come a day at a time rather than a large span of time. When it comes to her own conflict, be it within herself or her family, she opts to ignore it rather than to confront it, making it easier for her to not have to deal with it.

History:
Victoria’s birth came as a surprise to Arthur and Maria Taimor following the birth of their eldest daughter, Elizabeth three years later. The House Taimor had been expecting a boy ever since Elizabeth’s birth, suffice to say they were a little disappointed with another girl, but House Taimor saw it more of a blessing in disguise. It wasn’t until four years later when Victoria’s brother Alexander was born was the House Taimor finally happy to have a son, that Victoria began to dislike being in the House. Victoria soon began to dislike the attention Alexander was getting as the first born son, and being in the shadow of her older sister Elizabeth didn’t help either. In her younger age, Victoria liked to escape the house and play with the other children in the streets and fields while her mother took care of Alexander and Elizabeth learnt how to become queen. Quite frequently she would come back to the house bruised and muddy after a day playing, her clothes showing rips and holes much to the dissatisfaction of her house maiden. Victoria soon became accustomed to wearing the restricting clothes that was required of high-born children, however preferred more loose fitting clothing.

As soon as Victoria came of age, she joined her sister in the classroom, being taught by the houses tutor in how to speak and write Ethorian alongside learning how to act like a lady. Victoria being the active child that she was preferred the outdoors, and would be scolded for turning up late to her classes which she attended to much dissatisfaction. While her sister excelled in acting like a lady and learning in the classroom, Victoria lagged somewhat behind, excelling more in the field and outside. Nether less, for the next couple of years; she attended class and learnt to act higher class until the age of eight when she befriended the son on the local weapons’ smith. Unlike her sister who excelled in politics and her younger brother who would soon be taught how to handle a sword, she found her interest in befriending the people of Rowanion. Victoria knew most of the children in the city by name, but very little knew of her actual title; she hid under the alias “Alys”, fearing that if the others found out about her heritage, they would treat her differently.

Tyler was the first to recognise her royal status, as the weapon smiths’ son, the two encountered each other when their parents would discuss matters concerning both parties, and quite often the two would run off to play. One day, Victoria escaped the household to go play with the other children, only to find Tyler there as well. Before the boy could say anything, Victoria initiated a game of ‘hide and go seek’ and ran off, pulling Tyler by the hand. The two hid and Victoria threatened the boy if he was ever to let her identity slip. After this, they soon became good friends, and often spent time around Tyler’s father’s workplace. Here, Victoria came across the bow, after deliberating with Tyler’s father; the two soon began learning to use the bow. For the next ten years, the two learnt to use the bow together, often going on hunting ventures once they were fifteen to train on moving targets like animals. Through this period, the two became quite close friends, however due to their status, they were unable to become anything more; Victoria’s family beginning to shun her friendship with the boy.

Once the two grew to the age of eighteen, they grew apart. Tyler ended up joining the archery segment of the Taimor army, spending long periods of time away from the city while Victoria went back to learning how to be a high class lady. By now, the children Victoria had played with in her young age were in the work force and as such she knew many people around the city of Rowanion; making her more social than either of her siblings. Although now they know of her status, many still refer to her by her alias, “Alys”. At this time, Elizabeth ascended to the head of the house after the unfortunate event of her parent’s ship being burnt down by Raelus’ pirates under orders of the Burning King. Their untimely death meant the Elizabeth was still somewhat unprepared to become head of the house, but regardless of this she still became head of the house with help from her advisors to lead. Alexander continued his training to become a knight and Victoria continued to practice with her Bow, now having a bow specially crafted to suit her and now moved more freely around the city of Rowanion and befriended more people with her parents out of the way.

At the age of twenty-one, Victoria had a falling out with her sister who wanted to wed her off to one of the major houses in order to form a stronger bond for them with some of the other Ethorian houses. She left the city of Rowanion to travel the Ethorian countryside, taking up whatever work she could find from working in the fields, to the taverns, and even some mercenary work where she soon met, Varian Sigmund who assimilated Victoria into his ranks; Victoria running under her alias of “Alys”. Often, she would leave the mercenaries to pursue other jobs, but would always end up returning to the group of mercenaries.

Weapon Preference: Bow and Arrow is her primary weapon, however she also has a hunting knife, and can use it in close combat situations if the need arises.

RP Sample:

Spoiler:

October Carter – Syndicate HQ, Birmingham, England

October rolled over, placing a kiss on the lips of the hulking Adrian beside her. She ran her fingers lightly up and down one of his arms, marvelling at the extra pair of arms that wrapped around her. All four arms were the same length, and Adrian’s training meant they were quite muscular as well allowing him to lift up to twice what he could with one set. After meeting with Adrian and bringing him back to the Syndicate, they had hit it off, training together as they got along quite well. Neither regarded Jeremy with anything but disdain, however Jeremy brought that on himself when he chose not to fight. So they ended up being the only two training, and despite being pitted against each other multiple times, soon became close.

She was interrupted by the sharp, incessant beep of the alarm clock on the bedside table. Rolling over, she whacked the top of it, hitting the snooze button that would allow for ten more minutes of rest. When she rolled back, she was greeted by an open-eyed Adrian.

“Morning, how was your sleep?” He asked her, briefly resting his eyes before opening them again.

October cuddled further into Adrian’s ripped body, “The best in a while, it’s been lonely without you here.”

“I’m back now,” he wrapped his arms around October, giving her a hug, “so it’s back to the normal routine. I assume Fletcher and Jeremy are up already, I’ll go wake up the younger ones, can you wake up Erika and the other guy?”

Something sparkled in October’s eye, “you mean Leon? Of course I can!” She slipped into a bra and underwear, throwing on one of Adrian’s shirts that came down to just above her knees. She left the room, blowing a kiss towards Adrian on the way out.

Walking lightly down the hall, she watched each nameplate carefully, looking for the one with “Leon Nef” etched into it. It didn’t take her long before she found it. Carefully opening the door, she made her way into the room, creeping over to the sprawled figure. Taking off Adrian’s shirt, she bent over till her face was only an inch from Leon’s face. “Wake up, sexy,” she whispered in his ear.

Leon opened his eyes and observed the figure in front of her, before replying, "How much?" a smirk covering his face.

Slapping Leon across the cheek, she pulled Adrian’s shirt on, storming out of the room and slamming the door. Angry, she made her way down to Erika’s room, composing herself into a nicer mood before knocking politely and entering.

“Erika dear, its breakfast time,” she said cheerily with her head through the door. She closed the door behind her, making her way down the hall and into the lounge area where Jeremy sat at one end with Fletcher. October positioned herself at the other end of the table, ordering a bowl of muesli and yoghurt.

Adrian Santoro – Syndicate HQ, Birmingham, England

Once October left, Adrian stretched out in bed before swinging his legs over the side of the bed and putting on the pair of jeans sitting on the floor from yesterday. He was still quite tired, after having spent only a couple of days in America had been enough to give him bad enough jetlag. The world still felt like it was uneven, but not to the extent it had been when they arrived, so apart from a couple of minor stumbles, he had no trouble really moving.

Adrian left his room in time to see October enter Leon’s room, her apparent excitement about waking Leon up worried him; Adrian knew October well enough that she was probably going to try and annoy him in some way. Regardless, Adrian walked in the opposite direction, coming to the doors of the two new recruits; Jericho Heiko and Archie Reevs.

He knocked quite loudly on both doors before he entered them, “Up and at it guys, get dressed and join us for some breakfast!” he announced before leaving them to their own devices and headed towards the kitchen. At the table already sat Jeremy and Fletcher at one end, with October at the other end, slowly eating her muesli and yoghurt. Adrian ordered Bacon and Eggs accompanied by a protein shake and joined October at the table, sitting next to her as he waited for his meal to be brought out to him.

Every so often, he would look up at the door, waiting for the others to arrive for breakfast until his freshly made breakfast was served in front of him.

If you look over the rules, you'll notice that there are no reservations. You can post conveying your interest, but no actual reservations are made, and complete your sign up within a certain amount of time, perhaps a week or so. My Co-GM and I will deliberate on Sign Ups once enough people have applied.

Just a heads up that we are able to provide some info on countries via PM that are not listed in the Country Profiles section but is visible on the map if anyone wants to make their characters from there.

Invite some people to sign up, guys, if you know anyone that might be interested!

Appearance: Like all her kind, Rhoda is short in stature. Barely making it to four and a half feet herself, she is nothing outstanding and perfectly average in this sense, along with her stocky build and rounded face. Her features are also rather rounded and soft-looking, and when she smiles her cheeks exaggerate these qualities (she also has a dimple on her left side). There is no definition to her jaw or chin, but her nose is a little pointed when compared to her brothers and sister. Her eyes are small and slightly too close together, but framed by long, thick lashes. Their muddy hue matches that of her hair, which is kept short at the front and tied into a ponytail at the back - though this doesn't stop certain strands from falling into her eyes.

As a dwarf, her frame is inevitably stocky and thicker set than other women. Her hands are large and clumsy, meaning that she cannot hold small tools and be as dexterous with them as say, an elf. Unlike the rest of her skin, which is smooth and has few blemishes, her hands are coarse. She will occasionally wear gloves (especially when using weapons), but she finds that the flimsy materials of the surface world tear far too easily for her liking. Another thing about 'the outside' that she does not understand is make-up and why countless women endeavour to enhance their facial features for the sake of male attention. Rhoda does not see herself as a woman like them, considering she was taught how to use a weapon from a young age and her femininity was never focused on. Sure, she has a full bosom like many of her ilk, and her narrower-than-her-hips waist blesses her with an almost hourglass shape, but she has never received much attention in the form of suitors (for the clothing of her caste is hardly attractive, not to mention she has no desire to be the subject of leery old men).

In terms of attire, she wears garments which cover up her somewhat chunky thighs and upper arms: grey, scaled armour on her upper body and a matching, armoured skirt that reaches to just above her knees. The bottom of the skirt is lined with a silver trim, and underneath she sports black breeches and a pair of heavy boots from home. A belt encompasses her waist, drawing attention to it a little more than her regular clothes would, and there are similar belts at her wrists. The gloves she wears when using a weapon are fashioned from a very thick leather, and mismatch slightly with their brown colour. About her neck is a cape, the mantle reaching down to just above her breast and the end skimming the top of her buttocks.

Personality: Rhoda is odd, by dwarven standards: she has the pedigree, the looks and the potential to be a great member of society yet she prefers to obsess over surface-dwellers, namely manfolk, humes, whatever your name is for them, rather than apply herself to her familial duties. She is smart enough, her brains often landing her in the top percentile of her classes (not that dwarves tend to be the most erudite and studious of the races, there were still lessons to do with Mindirion history and whatnot), and her aforementioned potential was in the trading sector; her ability to do mental arithmetic in her mind is outstanding, and she can hold her own with hagglers -though she lacks the silver tongue that her family and many other merchants rely on. Rhoda really doesn't like lying or exonerating things, bearing a strong sense of morality and quite a large conscience. She will only lie when she really has to, and badly at that. Deception again, is something she is unable to comprehend, let alone use herself, though is gullible and naïve when it comes to the world beyond her mountain.

At home she is a little less ebullient, feeling slightly suppressed by the mountain walls and lack of humans, but still retains a cheerful persona. She rarely exhibits sadness beyond the circle of those she trusts, namely her mother and best friend, though neither of them fully understand her fascination with the outside world and thus she is bestowed with loneliness. The dwarf tries her hardest to please others, and is not afraid of going out of her way to help someone or make them happy (this being a combination of her own persona and her father raising her to be a people person), sometimes sacrificing her own happiness. She can take this too far, and when she does it has a negative effect on her, not that she lets anyone know this. There is always a smile on her face, rarely anything else, when she is home in Mindirion but beyond she is able to express herself more freely. This means that her interest in humans increases exponentially whenever she learns something knew about them, and sometimes Rhoda seems to regard them like one would animals in a zoo. Her naïvety and sheltered upbringing has also meant some of the things that she believes about them have gotten a little lost in translation so to speak, and peers have taken advantage of this. For example, one of her uncles told her that it is human custom to gargle as you drink ale in order to savour it, leading to an unfortunately awkward first time in a human tavern. This has not turned her thirst for knowledge sour in any way, and she clamours to learn more about human culture. Her dream is to settle down with a human man and live in a nice house with several children - perhaps pushing feminism back a few years but she doesn't mind. She does not regard herself as a woman, part of her upbringing granting her the opportunity to train as a warrior with both girls and boys. It is also worth mentioning that she has only ever had one relationship which she ended when she realised she liked her men... taller.

Rhoda rarely angers but when she does (and it takes a lot to push her over the edge), everyone in the vicinity knows about it. Short of a volcano erupting, she will rant and rage and then feel incredibly embarrassed and guilty after subjecting those around her to her feelings. She possesses a strong sense of pride despite being 'different' to other dwarves, and dislikes being undermined by her equals or inferiors. However, like the rest of her folk she has a penchant for treasure, though treasure to Rhoda means books. Reading is one of her favourite hobbies - her father would claim a story book from the surface world once every so often and she would pour over it. This is probably why she is so enamoured with humans etcetera.

History: Rhoda is the youngest born of Jahad and Myda Dreyan, both of whom are part of the tradesman caste within Mindirion; her birth was nothing special and without any complications. As the youngest child, she was spoilt by her father, who doted on her. He would bring her toys and trinkets that he had acquired during tradesmeets or when the surfacers came back to share their tales of the world outside of the mountains. Later this became books - no sooner could she read she was experiencing a plethora of fairy tales about humans, elves and other creatures, which perturbed her mother a little. Rhoda was enrolled in combat classes as soon as she was of the legal age to do so, but this did not quell her passion for literature, or indeed her growing fascination with the humans. There were few events in her life that stood out until she was chosen as the Mindirion representative to answer the monks' call (she was the only candidate who willingly volunteered and frankly, a lot of people felt it easier to get rid of her rather than have a more valuable asset being tied up with what they thought was mumbo jumbo), once of which was her brother bearing a daughter out of wedlock with a low-caste dwarf. Not wanting to abandon his new family, Greir chose them over the comfortable middle class that the Dreyan house had to offer.

She had few friends growing up, though her closest friend Herra she knew from a very young age. The two were not inseparable so much as they were respectful of the fact that each had her own interests (and Herra was one of those dwarves with charisma, the type who always seem to gather people around them). There was one boyfriend, but Rhoda broke the relationship off when she realised that he (or any other dwarf for that matter) could live up to her ideal man. Once of the reasons that she became one of the knights - as petty as it might sound - was because she was hoping to meet someone who could sweep her off her feet.

Since leaving her home she has had few problems regarding homesickness - it was fairly easy for Rhoda to detach herself from her old lifestyle and become a 'surfacer'. Her father occasionally sends her things, but more often than not he sends gold - while a useful thought it is somewhat annoying when one has to explain to shop owners and barmen that it is legal tender.

Weapon Preference: A two-handed hammer, though anything that fits in her hands will do really.

RP Sample: From Elder Scrolls: Akatosh's Hourglass.

Spoiler:

With her tools safely concealed and the man's head bound in a cloth bag at her hip, the Argonian female made her way through the ruins, keeping an eye out for ancient traps or hidden rooms filled with treasure. She was not a kleptomaniac at heart, otherwise she would have trained to be a thief, but it was always nice to have something that was worth enough to pay for a warm bed and a hearty meal - though anything too fancy she would stash elsewhere, lest she draw attention to herself by selling a rare artifact. Merchants had silver tongues which were also considerably loose.

The sun greeted her, temporarily hindering her eyesight. It had been dark when she'd approached Belda and the light levels inside the ruin were not as bright as daylight itself. As far as she could remember, her client had told her he would be around the ruin - but not too close - at a camp just outside Cheydinhal between the hours of nine o'clock and midnight, leaving her to suspect that he was a vampire. Of course, there were other factors that could explain the arrangement, but she wanted to prepare herself for the worst. After all, just because he was his client didn't exempt him from other assassination missions. Occasionally she had been targeted via this very method and almost lost a chunk of her tail during one encounter.

Now, what to do while she waited for the light to dwindle again? She was fairly hungry, maybe a camp of her own would be a good idea. There was no point in returning to the city before setting out again, not if she wanted the guards to discover the head in the bag (or regard her bloodied appearance with scrutiny). No, there was a lake just to the north of the meeting point, and she would head there.

Other: Nothing I can think of right now.Side: Knights of Ekilore

__________________

I am the very model of a scientist salarian,
I've studied species turian, asari, and batarian.

Appearance: Arlen is an imposing figure, which is something that is seen quite often in Vanaheim. Arlen is of a mostly normal appearance for a man in Vanaheim, being about six feet three inches tall and full of muscle. He has dark black hair that reaches down to about his eyes in front, and to about his neck in the back. He has bright blue eyes that are always sharp and in focus, darting from one thing to the next.
Because of his life first working on the docks, then later training for the military, he has multiple scars and almost constantly has bruises. Hauling barrels on the docks, then swinging swords in the military academy has left a mark on Arlen, but it has also left him strong and healthy, and ready to fight for his kingdom.
Being a Highman, Arlen wears only minimal armor, usually only wearing a helmet, greaves, and bracers. His greaves and bracers are made from leather with studs in them to protect further from injury, and his helmet is iron with horns (what else) protruding from the side.
Personality: Arlen is a loyal man, although will put loyalty aside if he thinks that it will benefit his people. One good example is that he was thinking about leaving the King’s royal army because he believed that he would do more good for his people as a rogue that he was doing. Another fault of his is his narrow-mindedness. Once he gets his mind set on a goal, he doesn’t give up and will go through nearly anything to achieve his goal, even if it means smashing his way through an army to attain that goal. Despite being very good at what he does, he doesn’t enjoy killing in the same way that some warriors do. Although he isn’t about to talk a problem out with his enemies, he prefers not to resort to violence unless completely necessary, and wants to help the needy rather than protect some filthy ***** living in a manor. To sum up his personality in a quote would be : “I fight gangs for local charities, that kind of stuff.” – Fezzik, Princess Bride

History: Arlen grew up in the port city of Dergen as an orphan. His mother had died shortly after his birth, so his father took care of him for five years until he died on a pirate raid in which he fell in the water and drowned. Turns out, you can’t swim well when holding onto your favorite broadsword. This unexpected turn of events left poor Arlen without any family, fending for himself on the streets of Dergen. Of course, being on the streets lasted all of about a week until an orphanage found him and brought him back, where he stayed for the next nine years in what he would later describe as “living hielheim”. After this terrible period in the life of poor Arlen, he was sold as what was in practice an indentured servant, carrying cargo to and from ships at the docks and occasionally having the privilege of being out at sea.

Now, being the adventurous soul that he was, when the option came to take part in a raid of a band of rogue ships located several nautical miles North West of the tip of the island of Drakin, Arlen jumped at the chance. Literally, he jumped straight onto the ship just moments after picking out a large sturdy axe. After being at sea for several days, something that Arlen enjoyed thoroughly, as do most Highmen, the rogue ships were spotted. The men prepared for battle, strapping on various pieces of light armor, Arlen choosing only horned helmet to fit upon his seventeen year old head. Although being as close as brother was important to the men of Vanaheim, a seventeen year old with no battle experience was considered little more than fodder, even though Arlen could probably beat a good number of them at arm wrestling. So of course, Arlen was order to leap the gap between the two ships first once the ships where in jumping distance of each other. To put it very simply, Arlen jumped the gap, then slew four of the men on the other deck, who were still fumbling with their weapons when Arlen’s axe rent them in two. Arlen’s comrades stayed silent for a moment, then charged onto the enemy ship with a loud war cry, not wanting to let their younger brother to have all of the glory. During the battle, Arlen’s axe broke when facing a man with a heavy morning star, leaving Arlen with only a shattered shaft of wood. Unable to think of doing anything else, Arlen shoved the shaft into the enemy warrior’s eye, causing him to cry out and drop the morning star on the ground, which Arlen then picked up and used to smash his opponent’s head in.

After the battle, Arlen was congratulated, along with the rest of the fighters who took part in the raid, by the general who had led the mission. Finding a life in the military so much more interesting than hauling cargo on the docks for the rest of his days, he immediately petitioned to be put in the military, a wish that was granted at his eighteenth birthday. For two years he was trained in the art of war, learning the art of multiple weapons. However, his primary weapon that he used was of course the morning star that he had won in combat during his first raid. He excelled in the military academy Dergen, and was quickly transferred to the academy located at Greyfor, which is usually reserved for those with a large amount of money or a large amount of skill. Fortunately, while Arlen lacked in one are, he excelled in the other.

After graduating from the academy in Grefor, he joined the royal army, participating in battles of both large and small scale, excelling in each, and quickly gaining prestige. However, in the last couple of years, Arlen has been wondering exactly how much good he was doing in such a large army, and started to consider going rogue, thinking that he could do more good that way for his people than he could in the royal army. He was considering this topic when he received a letter from the Monks of Ekilore, summoning him to their tower along with others to receive some sort of “message”. Intrigued, he immediately told his superiors, who agreed that it would not be good to ignore a summons of the Monks of Ekilore, which there was much superstition about among the ranks of the army. So, being the resourceful man that he was, he bribed his way onto a trader ship heading for Gallen, from where he planned to catch a transport ship to Ekilore.

Weapon Preference: Arlen loves his morning star. Because of his large strength, he is able to swing it quite fast, usually fast enough to knock an enemy clean off their feet unless they are prepared for it. For those who unaware of what a morning star is, it is a large spiky ball, usually made of a heavy metal material on the end of a chain, the other end of the chain attached to a short wooden handle. The user swings the weapon around building up enough momentum to destroy shields, bend swords, explode heads, that sort of thing. Arlen also uses two short axes that he can swing around for more close range combat, but they are also quite balanced and can be used for throwing, something Arlen can do quite accurately.

RP Sample: "Alright Nikolai," Wade said, gesturing to the hub of computers linked together in the room, "This is your training. On each of these computers, there is a specific line of code, a key, if you will. This "key" will be heavily guarded by multiple layers of programs determined to keep you away. Each time, you will need to retrieve the code, then move on to the next computer to find the next key. Once you have found one from all twelve computers, enter the thirteenth computer here," gesturing again to another computer, "and enter all twelve codes to end the training. Using my ability of reading minds and such, I'll enter yours, and will monitor your progress. Are you ready?"

Nikolai grinned, hoping now for a real challenge. "Lets do it." Nikolai sat on a chair in the middle of the room, and cleared his mind of all thoughts. Extending his mind outward, he felt around, more stumbling blindly than searching, until he encountered the first computer he was to enter. Allowing himself to be sucked into the computer, his mind went blank, then the information brought light to his eyes in streaks of light. The colors solidified forming concrete images. Nikolai looked with confusion on the world he had discovered inside the computer, looking strangely similar to the movie Tron. After a moment, Nikolai heard a voice inside his head, first vague mumbling, then solidifying into words. "Nikolai, can you hear me?"

Nikolai winced for a moment at the contact, then replied, "Yeah. I can hear you. Why does everything look like this?"

Wade grunted, "Give me a moment. Ah! Hmm, interesting. Well, how I see it, when you enter something with your mind, your brain wants to process it into something familiar, something you can relate the information being processed to. In your case, being in the computer terminals reminded your mind of the Tron movie, so your brain processed the information into that kind of understandable form. Make sense?"

"Yeah, I think so." He started walking along what appeared to be a highway, with a large city in the background. "I suppose that's where I will find what I am looking for. If only there was a way to get there faster..." As he said this, a jet black motorcycle appeared, with streaks of yellow light on the side. "Now this is more like it." He quickly hopped on the bike an took off towards the city zooming along the digital highway. "Aren't you going to be constantly nagging away at me Wade? Seeing as how you are a voice in my head, that is."

Wade laughed, echoing inside Nikolai's mind. "Well Nikolai, this is training, but also an evaluation of how good you exactly are. So while I would love to be picking away at your sanity being the voice in your head, I'll remain silent and watch for the most part. And I don't think that there is much I can help you with here, most of it will be up to you."

"Fine." The bike accelerated along the highway, and Nikolai arrived at the city quickly, decelerating as he entered the city. It was strangely desolate, as if the large city with digital skyscrapers had been abandoned, and was now only a ghost town. He continued through the city, moving slowly towards the center where he hoped to find the key he was looking for. Nikolai kept a vigilant eye, and accelerated into an alleyway and braking immediately. He poked his head out to confirm what he though he had seen, a lone man walking down the center of the road. He checked the functions available to him on his bike, and selecting "Identify" he targeted the man, who still hadn't seen him yet. The bike ran a diagnostic for a moment, then came up with a name flashing on a digital readout on the dashboard of the bike saying "Norton Security". Nikolai grinned, this was going to be a breeze. He accelerated quickly out of the alley and drove straight for the program, who now finally noticed him and started to sound an alarm. The program was just a moment too late however, as Nikolai rammed the bike into the program, smashing it to the digital concrete and exploding into hundreds of tiny pixels.

Wade spoke up, "Well that was....one way of doing it. I hope you realize that you cant just run over everything you see and win, right?"

"Yeah, I know." There was a large thud that shook the ground, and a large mech lumbered around the corner, its footsteps beating the earth. "Doesn't look like I will be running over that any time
Later...

Seven computers and many battles later, Nikolai exited from the computers, his head pounding, drenched in sweat. His heart pounded and he felt weak, which was strange seeing as all the work he had done had been mental. Wade got up from a chair on the other side of the room, and walked over. "Good job. You made some excellent progress today, I for one am very pleased at your progress. With some work...well, the things you could do! Getting there wont be easy though."

Nikolai got up from his chair, his legs weak, still strangely tired from the training. "So what happens now?"

"Now, we sleep! Even we Atlanteans cant go without sleep! And besides, it sure looks like you need it. Don't worry, this stuff wont be going anywhere. We can get back to it tomorrow. If you're still up for it that is."

The tall Russian grinned. "Up for it? That was some of the most fun I've had in my life! Difficult and exhausting, but fun." Nikolai yawned, "Sleep sounds pretty good right now though." The man only vaguely remembered Wade leading him to where he would be sleeping at AUP, and collapsing on the sheets, allowing himself to fall into the oblivion of his dreams. – Atlantis Arising, Nikolai Afon

Other: When not rampaging or such, Arlen is fond of reading books and listening to what would be the equivalent of smooth jazz. But mostly just bashing heads.

Side: Knights of Ekilore

Alright, much work to be done, things to edit, plans to...plot. Point is, I'm not satisfied with this. As far as I am concerned, consider this as a rough draft.

Name: Colin ArcamenelAge: 238Gender: MaleRace: ElffffffCountry of Origin: MiracyiaAppearance: Colin stands a good 6'2" above the ground. Like the majority of the elven race, he has flawless, finely colored skin. His skin is a pale golden brown (kind of like Nilla Wafers, had they been invented yet (and I guess soaked ones because they get paler when you soak them in milk or something? I don't know guys, just use your imagination) from head to toe and his hair is a jet black blessed with strands of gold (which he does his best to separate from the black to stop a muddy look from coming from it).

Colin, when in battle or on some mission of some sort, wears the standard knightly gear. All of his armor and swords and whatnot are finely polished or sharpened and polished to shining. Being a man who enjoys fineness and lavishness, his gear is always in the most top shape. When out of battle he wears warm clothing or coats from Maricya (assuming that the weather is appropriate) or fine items purchased in his current place of lodging.

Personality: As a child, Colin could have been called a stupid child. He was lazy, and unwilling to learn. You could get a whole monologue from his father about his conduct. Lessons were not fun for him, and learning anything, by any means, was a chore. The only thing he was happy to master was the bow and arrow, but that was useless, in his father's eye, so it was an unused skill. If Colin has any show for smarts, its his ability to pick up an object and use it effectively. Even with something foreign, with a good explanation and a full day's work, he can figure out how to use it at least decently. A detailed book isn't bad either. The easiest way to get information in this man's mind is to have him read it. Long and droned speeches on the how to's and the what not's are, for one thing, boring to him and never stick in his mind longer than an hour or two. While his father could never hammer in the art of blacksmithing, he could instill the lessons on how to treat another man.

Colin is respectful. He can dish out the sir's and sire's with the best of them, especially towards authority and those in prestigious positions. He was taught from a young age the etiquette required of him when socializing with any class and displays the required respect and sensitivity in the given situation. While he may not enjoy the presence of every sir and madame, he will act as if he did. When making a speech, he is also just as elegant. A man's word should be as strong as the body, as fit, as convincing, persuasive, or threatening, but in a tasteful and memorable manner. Colin can make normal words powerful as he was taught to do and as he still practices doing on occasion. Though he's good at it, throwing words at a group of people (especially if he must fake his own excitement) was, by no means, enjoyable to it. In fact, he hates the entire idea of going out and talking out loud to more than one person.

Now, work has never been Colin's favorite thing to do. There aren't many people that have opposite sentiments. Doing anything other than whatever he wanted to was a no-go since he was sixteen. He'd gotten the "You have to work hard if you're going to amount to anything" speech time and time again over the course of his early life. He was never happy with any of it. However, Colin eventually found the drive, or at least a reason, to work hard. He still hated it, but he began to make the effort to study and learn and all that such. He taught himself (and remembered all of those speeches) to become the diligent and hard-working man he is today. He still hated it, but eventually forgot about his core-deep disdain for the tasks due to the becoming norm of things.

While Colin has become somewhat un-fun since his teenaged epiphany, he can still get himself into good game. He is not overly competitive, but does however, display characteristics of competitiveness in certain situations, usually those involving contests of strength, skill, and other personal abilities. He would also form rivalries in these situations, which fuel even more his competitiveness in those situations. Yet these acts of competitive spirit never find their way to the surface of Colin's character, but instead are bottled inside, and are only unleashed in the given situations. In the act of bottling things inside, it can easily be said that Colin does a lot of that. His true emotions have been so well capped that he has become as unaware of them as those around him have. His youthful rebelliousness has been long oppressed to create the new, originally resented Colin Arcamenel. His habits in education have greatly improved. He is much more willing to acquire new skills and knowledge, usually through books or any sort of text, as well as experience. While old thoughts may arise dreamily, they are easily eliminated and without regret. After all, it's for the best.

History: Colin Arcamenel, son of Julian and Estatia Arcamenel and grandson of Ivan Euerla, was born in the June of 1750 into a family of blacksmiths. Fa'Haria, a small town where everyone knew everyone, was where Colin lived at this time. His father, Julian, was the only blacksmith of Fa'Haria, and being the only son, Colin was expected to follow in his path. As soon as he was old enough, he was taught the way of metals and liquid fire. However, Colin was uninterested in the path. The thought of slamming a hammer into fire until it became solid was boring and tiring. The process took too long and it was much too hot. That, and his father only let him do little things (not being ready to make large items). He was told time and time again that he was being much too fast, much too impatient, and that his actions would disintegrate his character, but he rarely listened. What Colin actually enjoyed doing was random play and the use of the arrow. For a small boy, he was good at it, maybe a prodigy if he were consistent enough (or even held the thing right). His father, unfortunately, saw no need a bow and arrowing. He would become a blacksmith, not a target sniping archer. All his father wanted, and thought was needed, was for his son to follow the family path and to keep his nose out of war-like activities. He could learn to use a small dagger (or a kitchen knife) for standard defense, but anything past that was wholly unnecessary. His arrow days would need to come to an end and his father did a good job and firmly stomping out the flames. Not even Colin's secret outings were enough for the boot.

Fed up with blacksmithing and his father's valued (for some ungodly reason) education (because why is that important?) he left his home in broad day with only a note of explanation at the age of thirteen. If his father wanted a son who could smash metal into metal all day and night, then he could have another son. It wasn't hard (and he'd no doubt enjoy the "strains" of getting one). Riding with a small family of elves just passing through, his departure from Fa'Haria was an easy and uncomplicated one. Colin eventually ended up in the city-village of Kindael, a small, but prospering place with enough of everything that was set not too far from Fornond. It was here, now free from his unreasonable family, that Colin practices his marksmanship, keeping his life afloat in a family-run ware shop named "Splendor" (and whatever that is in Elvish) that he both worked and lived in. The shop was run by a family of red-haired elves. A grandfather and his two grandchildren Ederlaah and Innes. In two years a living there, Colin became well known in Kindael from delivering packages and messages and had even developed a dating relation ship with Ederlaah (or Edie, as he and everyone called her). Being such a close friend with the family in such a short time, he had been given his own set of real arrows and a real bow as a gift. It was in this second year that things started to go sour with Splendor. Not financially, (they still had money to live off of) but with the happiness of their customers. There had been whispers going around about the shop owner, about how he had been doing things... Secretly swindling customers somehow or making deals with thieves. Colin tried to pay no mind to the words and defended his employer whenever someone came up to him about it. Things still escalated over the course of the year and spilled over to the next. It was on a very normal day that a conflict arose between the owner and a customer. The argument had gone to insult slinging and accusations. The customer was eventually thrown out. However, this didn't end things like it had been thought originally. The man's outrage was shared with the town. The argument had been the last straw, it seemed. That afternoon the entire village has congregated outside the shop doors. The family had very little, actually zero, defense. To protect themselves, Colin was sent to the roof of the shop to ward off all those that dared to try and enter.

From the top of the building Colin had a good angle, but could unfortunately do nothing. The villagers had attacked inevitably. Storming the building with angry yells and such. The arrows shot that had missed were uprooted by the unarmed to be used. Not only was the shop owner killed, but his entire family as well. With everyone in the village in on it, no action would have been taken, and if it had, Colin did not stay to see it. Staying on the roof until the villagers dispersed, Colin left during the darkest part of the night. In rage, he denounced the bow and arrow, saying the weapon was useless, an incompetent method to defend. With every arrow broken and bow destroyed, he forever hated it.

Colin walked a path to anywhere. Alone with no food or water or supplies, he had no idea where he was going. He spent days like this until he was found in a weakened state by an oddly short statured elf. The man took him in and, in a series of months with him, Colin found the resolve to educate himself and take his life more serious. From sixteen he made discoveries about the world and himself and learned how to use the sword. When he left the home of the elf, he was given a claymore.

RP Sample: There once was a duck named Bob. Who one day joined the mob. His boss was the mister that killed his sister. And now he cries and sobs.

Other: He's homosexual (Roland is going to get it) and pretty handy with a bow and arrow, though he detests the weapon. He can also do a pretty fancy card trick or two. Don't get me started with Poker.Side: Knights of Ekilore

Though I'm probably not going to sign up at the present, I must remark that this roleplay looks very well-planned (making up world history is my weak point Q_Q). I especially like the wealth of information on the countries' various symbols and mottos as well as the religions and their creation myths.

Though I'm probably not going to sign up at the present, I must remark that this roleplay looks very well-planned (making up world history is my weak point Q_Q). I especially like the wealth of information on the countries' various symbols and mottos as well as the religions and their creation myths.

Thank you for the kind words. It was a lot of work, but it was worth it. Histories are no fun in my opinion xD

Hope to see you sign up. We would be glad to have you involved.

-----------------------

Just a friendly update for everyone.

Firstly, I am personally happy to see some interest in this RP. I am aware that a giant wall of text for a first post (or two counting Supervegeta's) would intimidate some. I would apologize for that, but Supervegeta we wanted to share everything that we felt was important.

Secondly, all the SUs and WIPs are looking great so far. Keep up the good work and the final decisions will be reached shortly.

Speaking of that…Supervegeta and I have decided on a deadline for the SUs. We would like everything completed by June 10th. Not going to give a specific time or anything. It is more of an initial deadline so that we can get everything started sooner rather than later. We will continue to keep SUs open (until otherwise specified), but after June 10th they will have to be truly amazing to get accepted.

After some discussion with Supervegeta (he just told me what to do because he is my lord and master), we have decided that everyone who has a finished or nearly finished SU is accepted. Now, SV and I will finished up the IC thread and first posts and we can get started. This will likely happen by the end of this week. Keep an eye out. Till then, feel free to stare or post here to the pass the time.

For any one else still interested, we will continue to accept sign ups for some time. We can and will welcome new players and can continue to assist them in their sign ups. So sign up if you are interested. Accepted players force invite your friends! The more the merrier.

Hey! You guys probably already know this, but... :D I'm gonna be gone for a week (starting tomorrow). I may or may not be able to post for whenever you guys are ready (though, honestly, you should just postpone the whole thing. I mean... Hyrus? Start without me? Please, it'll crumble), but I'll try my best.

Appearance: Elijah is a sexy, sexy man. It's a vulgar way to put it, but it's very much true. He stands higher over most at the height of six foot, five inches, or about 1.83 meters tall. Elijah is of white descent, and has a slight tan. It is clear that he goes outside and gets a good amount of sunlight, but also gets some time indoors as well. His skin is practically flawless, no freckles, zits, blemishes, or anything of the like. Elijah is well muscled although his height makes it seem much more even to the rest of his body, creating a nice athletic build. Most attractive.

This is wear he gets his reputation of being the albino of his family, other than just personality-wise. He didn't retain the color of his family's sunshine blonde hair, that the family was known for so well for throughout the neighborhood. Instead, he took the color of his grandparents hair. Elijah has pitch-black hair, dark as night. His hair is thick and soft, coming down just a bit short of his eyebrows. It is only a bit unkept, a few bands of hair sticking up in odd places. His eyebrows are on the thinner side, overlining his eyes nicely. His eyes are just about the only thing that people can recognize to belong to his family. They were a light, bright icy blue color. A smile with those set of eyes would usually cause a few girls to swoon. The rest of his features fit his face perfectly, and if anything, they were more on the thin side of things.

On the casual side of things, Elijah was one to wear a simple set of clothing. Just your average medieval-wear. Usually he wears a white baggy shirt made of silk, with the baggy sleeves and a few buttons at the top. Lower-half, he has the loose pants with kind of puff out from your legs, and tucks the ends into his shoes. His armor is however, what he truly takes his pride in. The first layer of the armor is the usual things, under shirt, boxers, that type of stuff. Second layer is a full attire of chain mail, for extra protection. The third layer, is the one that shows. A black chestplate made out of the finest steel (with the arms covered too), and long black pants with an array of pockets in them. A golden yellow stripe goes down the side of them. Elijah wore black fingerless gloves, and had cuffs of the same black steel. Golden and black combat boots, with the pants over most of them. He had a golden yellow belt, and there were slots all around for his throwing knives, and one sheath for his longsword. And to top it all off, he has a yellow cloth wrapped around his chestplate diagnolly, tightened to make sure it won't come off in battle.

Personality: First thing's first, Honesty is Elijah's best policy. To be very plain on the subject, he is painfully honest with people. Yes, painfully honest with people. Elijah doesn't mind, and often does tell the truth to people, whether or not they asked the question. Such as, he wouldn't mind pointing out how absolutely disgusting somebody's favorite clothing is, the tiniest imperfections that person may have, and how much alike he or she is to a pile of a horse's excrement. And all of that, to the person's face in a nice, calm manner. And maybe even a smile to top it off, depending on his mood. Elijah has always been this way, ever since he had first learned to talk at the age of three. His parents have long given up in trying to get this attitude out of him, and instead tell him to just keep his opinions to himself. Elijah would always laugh at that. They called the facts 'opinions'.

Elijah believes that he is better than everyone. Actually, it might be better to re-phrase that in his words to better understand him. He, Elijah Darryon Chapmann, is better than everyone else in the city of Curilan, all in Eveamoor, and beyond, whether they were a human, elf, or dwarf. Either that, or the people around him are so idiotic that they have led him to believe as such. To him, people as a whole are just stupid, fickle, idiotic creatures to Elijah. Everyone lets their emotions, physical appearances, and others rule their lives. The highest person one should ever think high of, is themselves according to Elijah. And he has great reason to think this way. For he, is the best of everyone. Everything he does is superb, as he improves his natural ability, and does not do what he is not good at unless he has to. It would be a waste of his time to train in something and still end up being mediocre. And Elijah hates being wasteful.

So, Elijah doesn't love anyone, or anything, but a certain thing that makes the world go 'round. And that's money, in any shape or form. Whether it be in gold pieces, bills, coins, anything. There's nothing he loves to do more than to make some money. He may have gotten it from being raised in a merchant's family, but some would say he was born that way. Elijah didn't really take the family passion in selling things to people, but he certainly inherited the gene to do so. He could sell practically anything, but that's not the point. Elijah would do any job that made him richer, and preferably it did so faster. In fact, with his dashing good looks, if there was more money in being a prostitue, he would gladly do so. It would be a use of his assets, and for what better thing to possess? In fact, he'll try and see if a talent of his can help his goal of gaining gold. And he just realized which one would really get him rich.

Ladies and gentlemen, that would be his fighting abilities. Obviously, most do not appreciate his blunt honesty, and he has gotten into more than just a few altercations. And by a few, it actually means a lot. And most of them involved large amounts of un-pleasant physical contact. In fact, this has happened so many times throughout the years of Elijah's lifetime, his father had got his son a fighting teacher. He took to it naturally, already a great hand to hand combatant. But, without those years of tutoring, he would not be talented in the art of weaponry. Elijah's tutor soon had become obsolete as his skill rised.

History: Elijah was born into a wealthy merchant family on the date of June Twenty-Fifth, in the city of Curilan of Eveamoor. His parents ran a rather large jewelry store, and created a rather large amount of money for the family, including both him and his older brother Lukas, who received the best. Lukas was the spoiled one, and Elijah's parents favored him more in everything. He was the 'Sunshine child' as people around the neighborhood would say. Elijah was the 'Albino Chap', thanks to his distance from his parents, and his rather out of place hair color. Even as a child, he was much as he was today. He still had the same painful honesty, which was tolerated a bit, and the same knack for money. He was much smarter with it than Lukas, but whatever. Not a lot occured during his child-hood years, and it was pretty average despite the abnormal amount of fights Elijah got into.

A lot more happened during his pre-pubescent through his teenage years, and the reputation of being a rude little kid changed into being the pompous ass-hole. He became a lot more self-involved, and he became a lot more open with his truth. Which resulted in tons, and tons of fighting. Sometimes he would get into four a week, but he usually came out unscathed. Elijah was a bit of a natural fighter, but his father was not going to take any chances. He had hired a fighting tutor for him at the age of Eleven after a particularly bad week, and Elijah was soon taught the art of fighting. Whether that it would be hand-to-hand combat, or with weapons, he became proficient in the techniques. Elijah's personal favorite of the weapons was the long-sword, and his father had gotten him a customized one for his six-teenth birthday. Elijah was so excited, he had kept his mouth shut on certain things his father did that bothered him for a whole month. It was tough, but he did it in thanks for the gift.

At age eight-teen, the fighting trainer had become obsolete for teaching, and he was soon sent back off his way. Elijah grew bored the next three years, the only thing he resorted himself to doing being practicing his swordsmanship, and working. He mostly did manual labor, and ran around town getting the shipments. Elijah received a low pay, and felt as if his talents were useless in the family. He hated both of those things, and decided that he was going into a new career. A higher paying career. A much higher paying career. Elijah sat his family down one night, and told them of his plans to leave the house and become a mercenary. His parents seemed to be shocked, yet somewhat relieved at the same time. Elijah assumed they were giving Lukas the business, and they were glad that they wouldn't have to worry about him being angry about it. They gave him a good amount of money , and he was out of the house. Elijah brought his prized longsword with him, and used a good amount of his money to buy a really good set of armor. And then he was out of the city, leaving off to embrace his new career.

Weapon Preference: Elijah's primary weapon is his long-sword, which he nick-named 'Alpha'. It's made out of the best steel one could buy, and it had a Golden 'E' engraved into the hilt. The cross-guard is a fine black and extends out a bit on the sides, before sharply raising up an inch and a half. The grip was also gold. His secondary weapon, or weapons you could say, are throwing knives.

RP Sample:

Spoiler:

I just saw a poem on a duck being accepted as this. I hope it's okay if I skip this...

Other: He doesn't like being called by his shortened name (Eli) for no particular reason. It just bothers him.

Side: Mercenaries

__________________

~~~*~~~ Current Roleplays: N/A :[ ~~~*~~~

"When I'm called off, I gotta saw off, squeeze the trigger, and bodies are hauled off!"

The PokéCommunity

Meta

Pokémon characters and images belong to The Pokémon Company International and Nintendo. This website is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Nintendo, Creatures, GAMEFREAK, or The Pokémon Company International. We just love Pokémon.